#they're sososo weird and awkward and unaware of the horrors

[kyowritesstuff]

Goldencast - Harry Potter Si-Oc

 Being a Hogwarts student is fun.

 In theory.

 In actuality, having to relive your childhood as someone that you’re not, in a country you have no loyalty for, and with a war fast approaching, is certainly upsetting.

 …more than a little upsetting.

 Four Hogwarts students decide they’re not going to fall to the war, and in spite of all the prejudices that rule Britain, they decide to do it together.

 Now if only they figured out they’re not the only real person in the group...

PROLOGUE

Sky Clarksong boards the Hogwarts Express five years younger than she actually is.

Her not-parents – Michael Clarksong and Emma Smith, both Muggles – wait patiently on the platform while she searches for an empty compartment. She finds one near the end of the train, and hurrying as to not obstruct people on the corridor, she finally settles inside. Lait, her recently adopted cat, rises her head curiously for a second before accommodating inside of her cage, dozing off with a purr.

With a quiet sight, Sky sits next to the window and searches for her parents. Their house is just a few blocks from King’s Cross, and so there was no rush to arrive early to platform nine and three-quarters. In fact, Sky can still taste her morning coffee with milk at the back of her throat, a sweet, caramel aftertaste that’s sure to last till she reaches school.

Humming pleasantly, she waves to her mom when their eyes meet, and lets out a well-practiced chuckle when she instantly smacks her dad in the face to let him know where she is. Getting comfortable on her seat, she takes out her wand – Hazel, dragon heartstring, nine inches, swishy – and, her fingers gliding across its markings, visualizes in her mind’s eye two simple words.

[Magical Prodigy.]

That was Sky’s pick from the list of magical skills. She’s supposedly naturally gifted with magic, because of it. It came with a small cost – being naturally slow in learning subjects non related to magic. As she was almost done with high school at the time, the risk seemed worth it.

Now thirty years into the past, she’s more than assured in her choices.

She has to admit, though, that the sudden change in era and country has left her quite disarmed. First time she saw her parents, she almost forgot how to speak. And don’t get her started on school. History quickly became her least favorite subject, despite having loved it in her previous life. She tried to find solace in Literature, but that was just another disappointment. None of the authors she knew existed in this world, and if they did, they hadn’t written their books yet.

Sad, yes. But all Sky has to do to read proper stories again, i.e. fanfiction, i.e. ao3, is survive the war. Whatever comes after that, she should be able to deal with appropriately.

Or so she hopes.

…that’s why she picked the Magical Prodigy skill, she allows herself to admit, internally. Magic will leave her enthralled, she knows, and the thought of being able to perform it impeccably was a much needed comfort when she woke up in the White Void. But in reality, it’s not to entertain herself. It’s a net. A safety net. If all else fails, either during the war or after it, she’ll always have her magic to fall back on.

She’ll live past her teenage years, that’s one thing she’s sure of. But the way she’ll live, in this wonderful, terrifying, magical new world, that’s what she’s afraid of. What will she work as? Towards what goal? Will she live in a magical neighborhood, or will she try to live in Muggle Britain hiding her magic? Will her new, not-parents be part of her life? Will anyone else?

So many variants and terrifying maybes, and the one thing that remains true in every single one is that her future will be determined by her skill with magic.

So Sky picked the Magical Prodigy skill, and she’s gonna ace every challenge Hogwarts presents her with, so whatever happens to her after school, she can assure herself it’ll be ok. She’s in the world of Harry Potter, her true family only a memory now, but she has magic, and she’ll be ok.

Everything will be ok.

An unexpected, strong knock comes from the doors to her compartment, startling Sky out of her thoughts, and when she whips her head around, she sees…

Rook Brindlestone boards the Hogwarts Express five years younger than he actually is.

Having been Apparated by one of the Brindlestone’s house elves, he’s left disoriented before one of the train’s entrances, it’s scarlet metal shining obnoxiously. Shaking his head firmly, he takes a step towards the train. The world swims around him as he does, but he powers through it and manages to get his luggage up with him with no one’s help.

Once inside, his surroundings seem to clear, and no longer dizzy, he walks straight down the corridor until the very end of the train. Most of the compartments there are empty, except for one housing a girl seemingly lost in thought while staring at her wand.

Wavy brown hair, tan skin, caramel eyes, from what he can see from behind the glass. She’s small and has no colored tie, so she’s probably a first year, like him. He doesn’t recognize her, though, and that might be a problem. When he read The Philosopher’s Stone at the wee young age of ten, he didn’t give much focus to descriptions and mostly made his own guesses on how the characters looked, save except for some key aspects such as Harry’s lightning scar or Snape’s greasy hair. So now, living in the same reality as those characters, he has next to no clue who anyone is.

That leaves two options with this girl: Either she’s a main character he heavily misinterpreted during his childhood, or she’s a side character whose only purpose is to fill up the halls.

Welp. No matter who she is, Rook needs friends. It’s not like he can’t figure out who she is, either. She’s a kid, and he’s a kid, too, so all he really needs to do is ask.

Or, you know, read her mind.

[Natural Legilimens/Occlumens.]

…ok so he’s just looking for excuses to use his Legilimens abilities, but he really needs to practice on someone who won’t immediately notice him intruding their thoughts, or else he might risk his life during the war.

…that probably doesn’t justify using his powers on an eleven-year-old, but. Still.

…has he even knocked on the door yet?

Fuck.

Regaining focus, Rook knocks on the girl’s door, although with much more force than required. He grimaces for half a second, and then the girl inside the compartment looks up from her wand and towards him, properly startled. He offers her an apologetic smile from behind the glass, and patiently waits for her to open the door. When she does…

“Um, hi.”

“Hello,” he says, voice warm. “Mind if I sit with you?”

Slowly, almost calculatingly, she nods. Rook drags his luggage inside and places it atop the overhead racks, next to a cage where a fluffy calico-looking cat sleeps. The cat opens one of its eyes. Rook blinks at it. As he does so, he introduces himself.

“I’m Rook. Rook Brindlestone. You?”

“…I’m Sky. Clarksong.”

…no, that doesn’t ring any bells. Humming, he sits across from her.

“That’s a pretty name.”

“…thanks?”

Seemingly awkward, Sky starts to fidget with her wand. Despite the clear show of discomfort, though, Rook is overwhelmed by a sudden rush of thrill. The first magical person his age he’s talking to. It might be a leftover trait from the Rook Brindlestone whose body he took over, that characteristically childish urge to befriend people of his kind, because in reality, he’s sixteen years old, not eleven. When Sky meets eyes with him again, it is that same excited thrum under his skin which guides his magic out, reaching out towards her in curiosity – and he’s immediately driven blind by a wall of white fire.

Smile sharpening, Rook blinks the sudden rush of emotions out of his system and thinks, privately, to himself: ‘What the fuck?’

“Do you want a brownie?” he says on autopilot, not quite seeing Sky anymore but bright, silver flames.

Sky blinks.

 “Brownies?”

“I had my house elves bake them for me.”

“Oh.” And then, almost meekly, she says, “…are they chocolate?”

By the time his vision clears, he’s already taken his brownie-filled tupper out and offering one out to Sky. It is immediately snatched from his hand.

But not by Sky.

Both of them turn to stare at their compartment door, where they’re met by…

Amber Cedargust boards the Hogwarts Express five years younger than she actually is.

Her parents gush over her with all the grace their name allows them to up until they arrive at platform nine and three-quarters, where they let her off into the train with curt nods. Amber doesn’t believe, like they do, that Pureblood families should act all prim and mighty all the time, but decides to humor her parents by bowing to them before setting down the hall, a wry smile on her lips as she does so.

She takes note of all the people she passes by: The curls of their hair, the shape of their eyes, the exact shade of their skin. Once she’s nearing the end of the hall she deduces that Harry Potter must not have yet arrived to Kings Cross, for she hasn’t seen even a hint of either his famously messy mop of hair or the ginger ones of his best friend’s family.

What she does see is the heir of the Brindlestone family, handing off a delectable looking piece of chocolate brownie to a girl she doesn’t recognize. A Muggleborn, then, and a very cute one at that. And given that Brindlestone’s talking to her, she must have some kind of charm, too.

Amber decides, right then and there, that she’s befriending both of them. As so, she approaches their compartment door, left open to the rest of the train. Without thinking, she snatches the chocolate brownie right out of Brindlestone’s hand. This causes both kids to look at her, perplexed.

…well, father did always say first impression should be memorable.

Hiding her surprise at her own actions behind a smirk, she takes a bite out of the brownie. A sweet warmth blooms inside her mouth, and so delighted she is by the taste she can’t help but let out a pleased hum.

“This,” she starts, barely resisting the urge to shove the whole treat in her mouth, “is so good.”

Brindlestone blinks at her. In his eyes there’s a spark of recognition.

“I’m glad,” he says, smiling cordially at her. “But that wasn’t for you.”

Amber merely rolls her eyes, the smile on her face smeared with chocolate. “I know that perfectly well, but I figured since we’re friends now, neither of you would mind.”

“Friends?” Asks the girl opposite Brindlestone, a small frown on her face. It is so unbelievingly childish, the way her hair curls around her tiny, round face. Amber has to resist the urge to squish her cheeks.

“Well, of course!” Amber says, fully entering the compartment and seating herself next to Brindlestone. Smile widening, she reaches a hand out towards the girl, still frowning adorably at her. “I’m Amber Cedargust, and I’m your best friend now.”

The girl blinks owlishly at her. Slowly, frown easing away into an uncertain smile, she takes her hand and shakes it.

“Sky Clarksong.”

“Rook Brindlestone,” says the boy by her side, and Amber finally has a name to one of the many heirs her parents insisted she befriend. She turns to look at the boy – Rook – and, now that she’s so close to him, notices just how pretty he is: Fluffy black hair, dark skin, and piercing, ice blue eyes. And then, of course, now that his compartment partner has approved of her, he offers Amber a disarmingly charming smile.

He’s going to grow up to be a heartbreaker, she knows.

She wonders if she can take advantage of that.

[Metamorphagus.]

“Oh, I already know of you, dear,” Amber says with all the flair she can mend into her voice. “Any wizard worth a Sickle does. You’re the Brindlestone heir. Your family owns the gold mines north of the Thistleberry Forest.” Then, leaning closer to him, eyes glinting with mischief, she asks “The question is, do you know of me?”

To his merit, Rook doesn’t lean away from her, not even an inch. He just sits and stares at her, eyes frowning slightly in concentration.

“…you’re the Cedargust heir,” he eventually says, words coming out slowly. “Daughter of Silver Cedargust and Yvonne Cedargust-Honeywood, owners of the Cedargust Vineyard and the…Honeywood Library?”

Amber allows herself to snort.

“I think you mean the Honeywood Magical Sanctuary, dear. The Ancient Library belongs to the Redsoot family, I’m afraid.”

Rook blinks. “Oh.”

“I take it you’re both Purebloods, then?” Asks Sky, making Amber remember they’re not alone on the compartment. Leaning back on her seat, Amber laughs airily, smiling at Sky with crinkling eyes.

“Yeah, we are. And you’re a Muggleborn, aren’t you? Your clothes aren’t very…witchy.”

To that, Sky smiles bashfully, bringing a hand up to tap her wand against her lips.  Amber takes this – and the fact that she doesn’t remember her parents mentioning any Clarksong family – as answer enough.

Rook starts shuffling at her side, and it’s only when he hands out another brownie to Sky that Amber remembers her own – stolen – treat.

Blushing, she takes another bite of it and hopes none of her companions notice her now pink cheeks. Sky follows her lead and tries the brownie, and Amber can only assume her delighted expression was the same one she wore when she was the one trying the chocolate delicacy.

“Oh my god,” she says, dropping her wand to cover her face. “Rook, this is- you are legally obliged to tell your house elves that I love this now.”

Rook smiles warmly and, after he’s lifted Amber’s stuff into a rack above them, gets one brownie for himself. Winking at Sky, he takes a bite of it and says, “Will do.”

Amber feels this warmth of Rook’s extending to her, blooming in her chest like a golden ray of sunshine. She thinks she just chose the best compartment to sit into, apart from the one which would house the Golden Trio, of course. And from the looks of it, both Rook and Sky, all chocolate smiles and wonder, were thinking the same.

Then the train’s whistle sounds, and the three of them are abruptly reminded their compartment has four seats.

“Um, this looks like a very sweet moment but, uh, can I sit with you?”

Alex Aspenvine boards the Hogwarts Express five years younger than he actually is.

His mom had been excited when his Hogwarts letter arrived. His dad, who was completely unaware of her status as a witch, not so much. He got over it quickly enough – a week or two after his letter arrived, he thinks – and was all too enamored by the sight of Diagon Alley to hold any resentment towards his wife after that.

Even now, on platform nine and three-quarters, he’s looking around in amazement, holding tightly onto his wife’s hand. Alex is too concerned with the train leaving without him to pay them any mind.

Nervous beyond belief because of their late arrival, he rushes through the platform to the end of the train, where he knows the compartments are more likely to be empty. His cat, Bandit, lets out an excited trill as Alex all but throws himself through the doors. Alex is too breathless to actually chastise him for it, so he just shakes his cage a little as he searches for an empty compartment.

To his dismay, there is none: None of the compartments were completely filled, as this was the very end of the train, but all were occupied. One compartment to his left only had one person in it, though, so that was probably Alex’s best option.

‘Huh…that guy’s hair is really messy…he has really pretty green eyes, though…’

…

Yeah, no, fuck sitting with Harry Potter.

Again in a rush, he promptly turns to the compartment to his right, where three kids are sitting and sharing pieces of cake. They all look very cute, but Harry Potter is right there and now that he’s facing the way of the doors he can actually see a family full of redheads on the platform just a few compartments down and he really, really doesn’t want to get involved with anything regarding the main plot. Not so early on, when he’s weak like this and on the verge of a panic attack.

And so, he’s left standing awkwardly in front of these kids’ compartment door, waiting for one of them to notice him.

None does.

The Hogwarts Express’ whistle rings sharply around the platform.

Without his permission, his mouth moves.

“Um, this looks like a very sweet moment but, uh, can I sit with you?”

All three kids turn to look at him, momentarily confused. The girl who’s closest to him is the first to regain focus, giving him a blinding smile.

“Well, of course, dear! Sit, sit, the train’s just about to part.”

Alex tries to smile back at her as he comes in, but all he manages is a grimace, shoving his stuff and Bandit’s cage under the seats. He ends up sitting opposite her and next to a brown haired girl, the boy next to the window raising a brow curiously at him as Alex quickly closes the door shut. Heaving a relieved sigh, he finally allows himself to relax. It’s then that the train starts moving, and the girl next to him shuffles to get closer to the window. That’s how Alex is reminded that his parents are people that exists.

Leaning closer to the window himself, he tries not to intrude on the girl’s space while also frantically looking for his parents. To his immense relief, they’re right outside their compartment window, having watched him make a run for the end of the train. The kids opposite them also pile up next to the window, and they all call out to their parents as the Hogwarts Express leaves the station – all except for the black haired boy, who looks out to the platform serene and quiet.

Once the platform gives way to tree-filled fields, they all return to their seats.

“Well, that’s that, I guess,” the girl next to him mutters. Leaning back on her seat, she turns to him and offers him a warm, if tired, smile. “I’m Sky Clarksong.”

“Alex Aspenvine,” is his automatic answer.

“Rook Brindlestone,” says the guy with black hair, smiling politely. And then, finally…

“Amber Cedargust,” says the girl who allowed him in. Now that the train has finally left the station, Alex lets himself study her carefully.

She’s blonde, and unlike him, her hair seems soft and well cared for, sunrays covering it in a golden shine. His own hair rests messy and untamable, a tangle of dusty blond curls pulled up in a small bun. Her skin is light and clear, lips a soft pink color that, were Alex actually the same age as her, would probably ensure her as his first crush.  But being older than he should, and knowing things nobody else on this universe knows, the sight only makes Alex wonder if kids are supposed to look that elegant. That…mature.

…it’s probably Harry Potter logic, somehow. Rowling wouldn’t want ugly characters.

…no, actually, she definitely would want them, if only to slander them and have them live through unsavory events. But, still.

This Amber Cedargust is simply far too perceptive-looking. Too cleverish.

This knowledge settles into the depths of Alex’s gut, and he can tell by the way his chest tightens that it’ll be the cause of many restless nights.

That doesn’t stop him from admiring Amber’s eyes.

At first glance, when he got in the compartment, they looked an olive green. Now that he’s paying more attention, though, he can see that they’re actually the color of the sea, threatening to pull him in and leave him breathless. But then, no- her sea-colored eyes seem to swirl, and slowly, almost invisibly, they gain an emerald light.

Amber blinks.

Alex flinches, and the charm is gone.

Amber frowns curiously at him, still sporting a smile, but Alex makes a point of not staring directly at her eyes, instead directing his grey gaze to the bridge of her nose.

Veela.

This Amber Cedargust has Veela blood.

Just his fucking luck.

“So, um,” is his magnificent, eloquently put together conversation starter. “You all Purebloods?”

“Us two are,” says Rook, nodding towards himself and Amber. “Sky’s a Muggleborn.” Next to him, Sky offers him a smile. To Alex, though, who’s a self-declared expert on introverts and social anxiety, it looks more like a grimace. Rook continues on. “You?”

“Half-blood.”

Amber gains a curious glint in her eyes.

“Half-blood?” she asks, straightening in her seat. “Who’s your magical parent?”

“My mom,” Alex admits, fidgeting in his seat. In his mind, he’s already screaming, desperately trying to remember if he ever read about a Cedargust Death Eater. The only knowledge his memories supply him with, however, is that the wizarding community frowns upon witches who marry Muggles more than they do wizards. “Elowen Aspenvine. She’s, um, a Portraiture Master.”

Amber raises one careful brow.

“A Portraiture Master?” she asks, voice now much more sharp. “Why, I’ve never heard of an Aspenvine with such a title. Only ever Lemongrass. Far as I knew, he was the only Portraiture Master Britain had.”

Alex bristles, or at least he comes close to it. He bites his tongue, though, far too aware of the consequences of making a foe out of a Slytherin-prospect Pureblood heir. No matter how small and cute she may look.

“She’s a polyglot. She works for people all over Europe.” And, feeling a spark of protectiveness too fierce for him to tame down, he adds. “Last month she even went over to Indonesia.”

“Sounds like a good job,” Sky says from beside him. Alex turns to her and focuses on her encouraging smile to try and calm down, even as he sees, from his peripheral vision, Rook turning to Amber and muttering what he thinks is the Pureblood version of ‘easy, girl.’ “I bet she has had lots of good experiences.”

“…yeah,” he murmurs, trying once again to get his memory to work. Clarksong, Sky had said. Had Harry ever encountered any Clarksongs? “She went over to Spain, once. She painted a wedding. The couple was happy.”

“I’m sure they were,” Sky mutters back, just as lowly. “My parents run a café in London. It’s not that big, but people like it a lot.”

“My dad’s a beekeeper. Maybe we could lend you some honey?”

“They’d love that.” Then, Sky’s brow furrows. “Are you from London, too?”

Alex blinks. “Er, no.” Sky’s frown turns vaguely more disappointed, and Alex rushes to make the kid smile again. “But I’m sure we can find a way to mail it to you! You know, magic and all that.” Then he chuckles. It is the most horrible, awkward chuckle he’s ever let out on both of his lives.

“You could use my owl,” Rook offers from across them, apparently done chastising Amber from whatever her little interrogation was. He flashes him a warm, blinding smile, and were he not so obviously a Slytherin-prospect, too, Alex would say it makes him look Gryffindor-ish. “Unless you have one, that is.”

“Huh,” is all Alex says, still not sure how to feel about this weird gang of kids he’s found himself surrounded with. “Yeah, I uh, I think I’ll take you up on that offer, yes.”

Her mom doesn’t own an owl. From what he had managed to gather from her, she has a personal enchanted diary that lets her speak with people all over the world as long as they have a book from the wizarding world and the correct charm. Alex himself had decided to adopt Bandit, a bastard, hyperactive cat, over an owl as his designated Hogwarts pet.

He thought that, with some luck, he would be able to deliver his letters himself.

[Animagus.]

At the time it didn’t strike him that, if his Animagus form were to be an owl or a bird of any kind, he wouldn’t need to send letters to anybody, as he could simply fly over and speak his mind himself. Now in the flesh of a wizard attending Hogwarts for the first time, he can admit to himself that maybe a mammal would be just as good. He’d even take a rat, as offensive as the animal was because of Pettigrew. In the case he couldn’t stop Voldemort from rising again, going about as a rat or a snake might be enough to save his life.

A trill coming from above them breaks Alex out of his thoughts. Sky dutifully stands up and offers Alex a- a brownie? Since when did she have a brownie? Was Alex really so nervous about today he didn’t notice her holding it? Shit, Hogwarts is going to absolutely fuck him if he keeps on like this.

When Sky seats again, there’s a fluffy calico cat on her arms. The cat in question looks around at all of them with silvery blue eyes, and with a meow and a wave of the tail, the cat settles onto Sky’s lap purring.

“This is Lait,” she says, with all the confidence and charm of an eleven-year-old. “We bought her on Diagon Alley.”

In a blink, Amber’s kneeling on the floor and petting at her, cooing and awing at the way Lait presses against her hands.

“Glorious.”

“Ok.”

Then, of course, because he’s a drama queen, Bandit shrieks from inside his cage, and Alex’s got no option but to take him out. It all goes downhill from there.

When they arrive at Hogwarts hours later, all four of them can safely say the ride went much better than expected. Sky and Alex spent most of their time either quietly chatting while looking over their pets or sleeping against each other, despite the nerves of their Sorting growing closer every second. Rook and Amber kept the compartment alive even as their companions slept, talking about everything and anything for the entire ride, playing cards and chess and guess-the-spell. All in all, it was a very enjoyable day, all kids having momentarily forgotten the weight of the war laying ahead.

This comfort keeps them together all the way over the Black Lake, where they all huddle together in a boat and marvel at the sights both over and under them, and through the ghosts’ visit to the first years waiting before the entrance to the Great Hall.

Of course, as the books had predicted, all kids, real or not, are left breathless at the sight of the enchanted roof, showing a smattering of white, twinkling stars against the endless depth of a velvet black sky. It is all so very surreal, the four long tables decorated in the school’s colors, the hundreds of students and thousands of candles lighting up the room. And then, of course, there’s Albus Dumbledore, sitting atop a golden chair and looking over his charges with a smile.

Then there’s the Sorting Hat.

Alex had thought, fleetingly, when they were still on the train, that things went downhill when Bandit decided to be a bitch and scream.

But no. Of course not.

Things go downhill here.

“SLYTHERIN.”

“HUFFLEPUFF.”

“GRYFFINDOR.”

“RAVENCLAW.”